


Cadence

by pitypartyof1



Series: Musical Inspiration [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Chicago Blackhawks, Happy Ending, Hockey, M/M, Silly Boys, oblivious Jonny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 08:42:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4341779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pitypartyof1/pseuds/pitypartyof1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the song "Cadence," by Anberlin</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cadence

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to send me love notes, they make me smile!

**_“Write down, to remind yourself of how it can be, how it can be. Heartstrings, you’re tugging at my heartstrings, my heartstrings. Helpless, I’ve become so helpless to your touch, oh touch me somehow. Restless, you leave me restless, breathless, wait for me. The closer I come to you, the closer I am to finding God. You’re a miracle to me.”_ **

**_—“Cadence”_ **

It’s a craving, a weak spot. Jonny doesn’t normally tolerate this in himself; he works hard to eliminate weakness. Patrick, as usual, proves to be the exception. Jonny’s body craves Patrick, and he refuses to deny this. Routinely he caves, lets Patrick snuggle up against him – on the plane, in a bar, watching TV – it doesn’t matter. Jonny just wants to feel him. The mix of happy/sad that rushes through him each time is almost enough. Patrick’s touchy-feely streak is something he’s eternally grateful for. His heart always beats just a little harder when he can feel Patrick’s chest rise and fall against him. Sometimes, he’ll find that he’s synced his own breaths to Patrick’s without even realizing it. It just feels so natural, and this never stops amazing him.

Jonny is hopelessly, head over heels, ass over tea kettle, hearts and stars in love with Patrick Kane.

This revelation crashes through him for the first time when they’re at Patrick’s condo. Having finished dinner and a couple beers each, they’re curled on the couch watching one of Patrick’s awful movies. There’s a soft hum under his skin, and Jonny has never felt so comfortable. Not only is he tolerating the choice of entertainment, something he’s always done for Patrick, but he’s carding his fingers through Patrick’s hair, too, tugging lightly at the tangled curls. Horror blooms in his chest, and he quickly stops moving his hand. Patrick, oblivious to Jonny’s internal freak out, wiggles against his side and makes a discontented noise, demanding he resume his ministrations.

When this proves to be ineffective, he turns large, brilliantly blue doe eyes on Jonny. Jonny tries to stare him down because that’s just dirty pool, and Patrick knows it. He knows what he looks like when he does that.

“Why’d you stop?” He inquires, innocently biting his lip.

Shrug. “It’s getting late,” Jonny grumbles back, standing abruptly. He looks around, a little unsure and awkward, then he scampers the fuck out of there. The door doesn’t shut fast enough for him to miss the stung look and hurt twist to Patrick’s lips though.

When he makes it back to his place, the first thing he does is take three successive shots out of the first bottle he lays hands on. It turns out to be low budget vodka, and Jonny nearly pukes. How it migrated to his house, he’s not sure, but he does know he sure as hell didn’t pay actual money for that terrible excuse of an alcohol. He’s disappointed that _that’s_ what he has to work with here.

He continues to take shots from the bottle. Anyone who says Jonathan Toews deals well with his emotions is a bald-faced liar.

Upon waking the next morning, he regrets his entire existence and immediately makes the age-old promise of those experiencing a particularly bad hangover, “never again.” His head is pounding, and he thinks he might be sprinting to the bathroom in the near future. “Never, ever, ever again,” he croaks into his pillow.

When he arrives for practice a couple hours later, he knows he looks just as bad as he feels. Sure enough, Crow confirms it for him upon entering the locker room.

“Taze, man, you look like shit. Rough night?”

Choosing to ignore him, Jonny tosses his bag onto the bench and proceeds to strip off his shirt. Seabs and Duncs are exchanging looks behind his back, he’s certain. And, what’s more, Patrick’s shooting confused looks his way that are teetering on the edge of concern. Jonny brushes those off, too. At this point, he’s more concerned about how he’s going to keep everything down. When he bends to tie his skates, his stomach gives an almighty lurch and he has to awkwardly hustle himself to the toilet.

It doesn’t take long for Patrick to find him on the ice. Even though the others have the good sense to leave him well enough alone, he still has the guts to skate over and knock into Jonny’s shoulder softly. Jonny gives him a withering look but Patrick doesn’t shrink, he’s immune to it.

“Seriously, Jon, are you feeling okay? You’re not sick, right?”

Jonny grits his teeth, jaw locking. “I’m fine,” he bites out, and leaves Patrick staring after him.

They run drills, Jonny feels like shit, and he compensates by being a complete ass to everyone, but especially to Patrick. He rips Pat up one side and down the other, not laying off for an instant. None of them exactly know how to react, but by the end of it, he can tell some of the guys would love to smack him in the face. As he watches Patrick skate dejectedly off the ice, he sort of wishes they would. Taking his confusion and turmoil out on his teammates is juvenile and unfair, and he knows better.

When the guys have cleared out after practice, and Jonny looks up to see Seabs gazing hard at him, he’s not really surprised. Seabs was his mentor, of course he’s got to be the one to stay behind and force Jonny’s head out of his ass. “Lay it on me,” he says, turning to face him and crossing his arms defensively and waiting for the deluge to begin.

“You fucking asshole,” he seethes. “You’re a great guy, Jon, one of my best friends, but you can be just… Just an _asshole_.”

 “Look, I’m sorry about today, I –”

Seabs cuts across him roughly. “No, I’m not done, Jon. You don’t get to talk yet.”

Jonny’s mouth snaps shut. He’s not used to this sort of anger from Seabs being cannoned straight at him, but he deserves every second.

“I don’t care what you’re going through right now,” Seabs starts again. Then he pauses to run a hand through his hair and sighs. “I mean, I do care, but you can’t pull this shit. I don’t know what issue you’ve got with Pat – don’t deny it!” he spits as Jonny opens his mouth to do exactly that.

Jonny flushes dark at being chastised, but he knows he’s not even close to done yet.

Seabs glares at him; apparently waiting to be sure Jonny’s not going to object. “Whatever it is,” he grumbles, “fix it. He didn’t deserve that shit. I’ve never seen you tear someone down like that, Jon, never. I never want to see it again, either.”

Unsure what makes him think it’s okay, Jonny whispers “I love him,” unable to meet Seabs’ gaze. It justifies absolutely nothing, and Jonny knows it, but it just comes out, like he can’t stop it, he’s nearly as surprised to hear it out loud as Seabs is. He shrinks from the sudden silence in the room.

“What the fuck.”

It’s not the worst response he could’ve gotten, but Jonny still flinches.

Seabs gives him a curious look. “Are you still drunk?” he presses.

Head jerking up quickly, Jonny denies it. “I’m not drunk. I just, fuck, I don’t know what to do.” He gives in, needing to say it, to just get it off his chest. Knees weakening with anxiety, he slumps onto the bench.

Still appearing unsure, Seabs comes to take a seat next to him, facing forward, elbows resting on his knees. “So, like, you love him? Love him, love him? I didn’t even realize you were gay.”

“Well I don’t exactly spread it around,” Jonny says with an edge.

“Sorry,” a pause, “so, what’s the issue?”

Jonny side eyes him. “Seabs,” he starts, exasperated. “I’m an extremely closeted NHL player who’s just realized he’s in love with his best friend and teammate. What part of this isn’t a problem?”

Nervously chuckling, Seabs leans back against whatever stall is behind him. “I guess I see your point there.”

Matching Seabs’ posture, Jonny huffs a breath, says “yeah,” and falls into silence and just a little bit of self-pity. It lasts maybe three minutes before Seabs flicks him in the ear.

“Stop it. I can literally hear you getting depressed.”

Jonny’s eyebrows knit. “I am not.”

“Yes you are. Why don’t you just tell him?”

Seabs has the gall to look like this is a perfectly reasonable idea, and Jonny fumes. “Seriously? Do you know what will happen if Kaner finds out? He’ll never speak to me, he’ll be disgusted, and I wouldn’t even blame him!” There’s a note of hysteria in his voice by the end, and Jonny buries his face in his hands, and only there does he allow himself to mutter his worst fear, “he’ll hate me.”

“Peeks could never hate you. You really need to pay more attention, you know? I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s stealth dating you.”

Jonny takes a moment from his breakdown to give him a disbelieving look.

“No, I’m serious! Look, I was surprised at you, bud, I’ll admit, but Peeks has never been a mystery. I always thought it was an open secret. Literally everyone knows, Jon, _everyone_. Don’t look at me like that,” he scolds before taking a deep breath and forging on. “Have you ever taken a moment to notice that he’s different with you?”

Jonny is completely baffled. This is all coming at him from left field, and it’s reflected in his witty response, because just “what?”

Seabs sighs, looking put upon. “Jon. Patrick sleeps on you, and I know I’ve seen him leaving your hotel room in the morning on at least one occasion. He lets you play with his hair, and he rubs your shoulders when you’re upset, we’ve all seen him. He doesn’t touch the rest of us they way he touches you,” he says face scrunching up. “Man, I never thought I would have to say that. It’s true though. His hands are always on you, all the time; he’s always touching you in some way. Jonny, man, he’s not subtle about it.”

Jonny is now flushed for an entirely new reason. He’s embarrassed as hell to be having this conversation, but he still can’t help but hope. If Seabs is telling the truth, well, that means he might be able to have Patrick the way he needs him. Even though he actively acknowledges the fact that he’s not the most observant person, he still has his doubts. It’s hard to believe that he wouldn’t have noticed Patrick having feelings for him.

Maybe Patrick just likes to touch, and he touches Jonny because Jonny’s never told him not to. Maybe he comes to Jonny’s room sometimes because they roomed together for so long that he just misses him. Maybe Seabs is wrong, and Jonny’s just not sure if this is a risk he can afford to take. All of his self-confidence, on and off the ice, comes to a screeching halt at Patrick. Putting himself, and more importantly, their friendship on the line is the most frightening thing he’s ever considered. He wasn’t even this scared when he came out to his parents.

Out of all these thoughts jumbling in his brain, all he can say to Seabs is “I don’t know,” because he honestly just does not know what he can do here.

“Trust him,” Seabs responds, pats Jonny’s shoulder and moves to leave. “Go talk to him. Tomorrow’s free, you two will be able to sleep in,” he advises on his way out, dodging the shoe Jonny aims at his back.

Jonny wants to trust Patrick, but he’s scared, he’s also scared to trust himself. Needing more courage than he naturally possesses, he heads home to break the promise he made that morning. He does stick with moderation, though, only taking one shot before texting Patrick.

_Can we talk?_

He doesn’t have to wait much after hitting send for Patrick’s response to ping into his phone. It takes him a stupidly long few moments to work up to opening the reply.

_Why? Did I fuck up something else?_

Jonny’s heart sinks and he feels like the asshole Seabs informed him he was, maybe worse. This is hard, emotions are hard, and Jonny hates them.

_No. I wanted to apologize, need to talk to you._

_Making dinner. Come over if u want,_ Patrick sends back.

Jonny supposes that’s the best invitation he can hope for, snags his keys from the hook by the door and toes on his shoes. Every step past his front door, he has to fight not to turn around and pretend this isn’t happening, he’s so worried about what will happen when Patrick finds out. He even drives more slowly than usual to Patrick’s. The shouted “it’s open” he gets when he knocks means he can’t back out. Jonny’s pretty all-or-nothing, so now that he’s here, he has no choice, he has to tell Patrick.

Once inside, he has to take several deep breaths to calm himself as he shrugs out of his jacket. “Kaner?” he calls out.

“Kitchen!” comes Pat’s muffled shout, accompanied by some banging.

Jonny makes his way through the condo, stopping short as he actually catches sight of Patrick. Jonny assumed he’d be occupied with whatever he was making. He’s not. Patrick’s propped himself on the kitchen island, palms down, and shoulders hunched, staring intensely at him from beneath his eyelashes and Jonny’s mouth goes dry. He’s supposed to be making amends and confessing his undying love, but for a moment, he’s struck, just admiring the beauty that is Kaner. He licks his lips.

“What?” Patrick says, breaking Jonny out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” Jonny wants to smack himself for the eloquence of that answer. Jesus.

Patrick just keeps up his steady gaze and snorts at Jonny. “You look like you’re going to eat me, dude.”

Jonny’s cheeks flame. He absolutely would love to eat Patrick out sometime, but now is not the time to think about it. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he steps into the kitchen. “I’m sorry,” he blurts, “about earlier. I don’t – I had no right to do that, and I’m sorry.”

Patrick’s look turns appraising, he shrugs, pushing off the island, says “alright,” and gestures for Jonny to take a seat at the counter. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Uh,” Jonny swallows nervously, “maybe after dinner, it’s kind of big,” he hedges.

Patrick just shrugs again, grabs a cutting board, knife, and asparagus from the fridge, and shoves it all at Jonny. “Make yourself useful and trim this then.”

Pulling the pile over, Jonny gets to work. “What are you making?”

“Eh,” Patrick grunts, “just some chicken and veggies. Wasn’t feeling too ambitious, was pretty exhausted after practice…” he trails off.

Jonny’s quiet for a moment. “I really am sorry,” he says softly. “I know I can’t justify it, but I hope you’ll let me try to explain later.”

Patrick nods, says “okay,” and keeps working, but Jonny can still see the stiffness of his shoulders.

When the chicken is done, Patrick hands Jonny a full plate. It looks good, and it smells even better. Jonny pushes it around his plate, unable to eat. Patrick makes it about half way through his own food before he cracks.

“Alright,” he says, mouth full, slamming his fork down, “what? What the hell is it, Jonny?”

Jonny slumps down in his seat, looking balefully up at Patrick. It’s obvious Patrick is still angry with him, and it makes everything that much more daunting. He swallows a couple times, trying to rid himself of the lump in his throat while Patrick waits expectantly. “Last night, when we were watching movies? I sort of maybe realized something I should have figured out a while ago,” he confesses, voice shaking almost as much as his hands.

He glances hopefully at Patrick who simply motions for him to continue.

“I realized you – you’re more than just a friend to me, Kaner.” Pulling his hands into his lap, he attempts to steady them. He meets Pat’s eyes once again, wanting to know if Patrick understood. What he sees boosts his courage, if only a little. Patrick looks exactly like someone who understands. He’s leaning back in his chair, eyes wide and round, mouth open slightly. His food has been moved off to the side, and he’s very obviously giving Jonny his full attention.

“Meaning?” he prompts when it seems like Jonny can’t continue.

Jonny closes his eyes and goes for it. “I think I love you?”

Patrick looks disbelieving for a second. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Jonny means it to sound confident, but it definitely comes out more like a question.

Slowly, a smile spreads across his face, then, crowing with victory, he slides Jonny’s plate to the side and dives across the counter to kiss him. It’s a solid kiss that takes Jonny by surprise, and he nearly topples backwards, arms flapping in the air. “Sorry,” Patrick says as he retreats back across the counter, smile still in place.

Jonny’s grinning, too, hard enough to hurt. And then, because he’s an idiot and it’s the first thing that pops into his mind, he asks Patrick “have you been stealth dating me?”

Patrick colors and rubs at the back of his neck a little shiftily.

“What, seriously?”

Patrick looks anywhere but at him. “Well, not really? I mean, I guess I was trying to lull you into it? Like Stockholm you or something? You didn’t seem to mind.”

“I didn’t!” Jonny assures him. “I’m just not very good at subtle, I guess.”

“…It wasn’t subtle.”

“Oh,” Jonny says dumbly.

“Doesn’t matter,” Patrick’s grin turns shark-like, “you’re mine now.”

“Yeah,” Jonny says, “yeah. I am.”

“Can we cuddle on the couch now and actually call it cuddling?”

Cheeks pinking, Jonny nods.

“Good.” Coming around the counter, Patrick takes his hand and drags him toward the living room. “I love you, too, by the way.”

And that’s enough to give Jonny permanent heart eyes. They cuddle, they watch terrible reality TV that Patrick chooses, and eventually they go to bed. As they lay there, Jonny picks up carding through unruly curls like he never stopped the night before. “How are you even real?” he asks reverently.

“Well, once upon a time, my dad said he loved my mom, and then they – mmph!”

Jonny muffles the rest of the story with a firm hand across Patrick’s mouth. “How can you even talk about that with a straight face, oh my god!” Patrick’s shaking with laughter underneath him, and his eyes are sparkling with mischief. Jonny gets lost looking at him. “You’re perfect,” he whispers.

Patrick takes it as seriously as it’s meant, fondness in his features as he brushes Jonny’s lips with his fingertips. “So are you.”

They do sleep in, and Jonny’s never felt more at peace than he does when he wakes next to Patrick. It’s a rare occurrence for him to be up before the blonde, so he decides to use his time wisely. He slips silently from the bed and into Patrick’s kitchen where he rifles through the junk drawer until he finds a pen and a scrap of paper. When he’s finished with the note, he tapes it to the mirror in the bathroom, where Patrick will find it when he wakes up, then he rejoins Patrick in bed.

The note is simple, but Jonny thinks it will make all the difference:

_You make me happier than I thought I could be._

_I love you._

The smile on Patrick’s face when he sprints out of the bathroom to tackle Jonny in bed tells him he’s right.

“I’m keeping you, no take-backsies,” Patrick grins.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jonny huffs, laughing.

 

 


End file.
